I just returned from a trip to the Netherlands, the place where my grandmothers lived for most of their lives. I’ve lived in many places (Ontario, Canada; California, Iowa, Virginia; and Oxford, Coventry and Birmingham, England), but not there. Nonetheless, the fact that they were both born in August has reminded me of them and given me food for thought.

 I only saw my paternal grandmother, Marie Johanna, when I went to Holland at 3, 14, 18, and 23 years old—and then only for a few hours. What did I learn from her? Not much. My father lived in a children’s home, so nothing there either. She passed on a recipe that became a family favorite, but that’s hardly a life legacy. My mother tells me I look like her and, certainly, the painting of her as a teen is eerily like the photos of me, my daughter and even my granddaughter. And she was an author—like me. I’m working on learning to read Dutch so I can read her books!

 My maternal grandmother, Augustine Weidemann, visited us every other year and, when we visited the Netherlands, we always stayed with her in my mom’s tiny childhood home. So the relationship was much more impactful. I remember the huge climb up narrow, steep stairs and Oma Bisschop smiling at the top ready to greet us. I remember the smell of fresh coffee that permeated the walls and the taste of the creamy yogurt that we were allowed to eat with beautifully crunchy sugar. I remember Oma showing us how she exercises every day by doing push-ups, pull-ups and more—at 80+ years old! I remember giggling as Oma tried to communicate with my younger siblings by shouting in German (if they couldn’t understand Dutch, surely that was the answer). I remember walking to the shops with Oma and being allowed to choose a pastry to have with coffee. I remember her smiling as she put all her ornaments up high when my baby daughter visited. No, I did not know her well, but she did manage to communicate her love, and I remember her with a smile.

 Because of this, I also learned from Oma Bisschop: that daily exercise is vital; that love can be communicated even when time is short; that even when life is hard, we can and must make the best of it. You see, this remarkable lady lost her mother at 3 and her father and brother at 14. She survived two world wars and the great depression. She nursed her eldest daughter through a long-term illness and gave birth to her youngest during the Hunger Winter. She never owned a car or a home and spent her entire life in relative poverty. Not that you would have known it. Her home was pristine and beautifully-decorated and her generosity remarkable.

 Oma Bisschop might not have had much, but she left a huge legacy to her four children, eleven grandchildren, and countless great and great great grandchildren. The gift that keeps giving. To learn more about her, be sure to sign up for Brave Face, the book about my mother’s childhood, where Oma can be found on almost every page.